


Rotten Lies

by orphan_account



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: (Bad) Friendship Building, Alternate Universe, Does This Have Some Fluff? - I Think This Has Fluff, Gen, I Am Physically Incapable of Writing Happy Things, Major Illness, Touch-Starved, Tragedy, Youkai!Natsume, how do i even tag this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5024455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Universe. The message appeared out of nowhere, written by nobody. That was the first time Tanuma made contact with it. As his terminal illness slowly catches up on him, he forms a friendship with the youkai at the abandoned shrine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy and the Abandoned Shrine

Once, the building had been a place of high importance. A spiritual highway, rumored to have been home to a powerful youkai, one akin to a god. But neither time nor Tanuma cared about the faded glory. Time had punished the building for even existing, the half-fallen walls, the collapsed roof, and the unsightly specks of rot that sat all across the wood were proof of that.

The walls weren't the only thing that was rotten. Everything within ten meters from the shrine was decayed. The plants were dead, the trees merely stumps of what they could have been, and an ungodly smell hung all across the forest. It wasn't a place where most humans would like to go.

But Tanuma did. To Tanuma, this was a place of security. Despite the rotten smell, the dead exterior and the all-around nastiness of the place, to Tanuma, all that mattered was the aura of peace and safety, like someone was protecting it. To him, this place was his own world, where he could go when he didn't feel like talking to other people.

He often brought his sketchbook with him, drawing the scenes that nature played out in front of him. Or he could draw his friends, without inevitably being interrupted by their cries of "That's not what I look like!" Or he could draw his father, in the middle of a ceremony. Even off just the top of his head, Tanuma could draw the serene look on his father's face without any effort.

And after he became diagnosed, Tanuma could also have drawn his father's worried eyes off the top of his head.

But he didn't. Because he came here to escape those eyes.

.o0o.

From the first time he had coughed himself unconscious, everyone knew where it was going. Because of this, the diagnosis didn't come as a surprise. Nevertheless, the news was devastating. At least to his father, who had been stubbornly clinging to the shreds of hope that it was, perhaps, nothing. Tanuma, meanwhile, had already made peace with the fact that he was going to die, and that it was going to be sooner rather than later.

Still, that didn't stop him from crying at the fallen shrine, that same day.

And that day, in that very instant, the miracle began.

After they got home from the hospital, Tanuma had run into the forest before his father had had time to stop him. His sketchbook had been with him all throughout the day; he had been planning this. He had known what the news would be, and he had known that he wouldn't be able to look his father into the eye for hours afterwards. So he ran to his secret place, gathered his sketchbook and pencils, and began to finish the drawing he had started the previous day.

But tears were falling from his eyes, and soon, he couldn't even see the drawing anymore. He didn't know why he was crying. He had expected this, he had made peace with it, and yet, droplets were falling from him and messing up his drawing.

He placed the sketchbook aside and buried his head in his arms. His shoulders shook. The sobs were the only thing that could be heard, and they echoed against the air.

When he finally stopped, it was dark, and the moon had risen. Tanuma took a deep breath, and began to gather his pencils.

His hand froze above his sketchbook. Shivers went through him as he stared at the previously empty page.

_Why are you crying?_

.o0o.

That night, Tanuma didn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the letters, written with an unsteady hand, as if someone had forgotten how to use a pencil. There hadn't been anyone with him, at least, not as far as he knew.

So who had written those words?

.o0o.

He didn't return to the shrine until three days later. He hadn't wanted to return in the first place. Hell, this was what happened in horror movies. An unknown entity started to communicate with an ordinary human, and they went to investigate. He and his friends had always laughed at them, saying that if they were in their place, they'd never be stupid enough to do something like that.

Now that he was doing the exact same thing, he felt like he understood those characters perfectly. He was curious. How had that message gotten in his sketchbook, and who had written it? Whoever it was didn't seem unfriendly. After all, they had asked after his wellbeing.

He arrived at the shrine and lay his pencil and sketchbook open just before the door. With a deep breath, he started screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Whoever you are!" he yelled. "Come out! I know that you are here!"

Truth be told, he didn't know. He didn't know if anyone was here, or whether he was currently screaming at air. But he felt something. He felt something that he had always felt here, and while it had never occurred to him before, he now knew that it wasn't natural. He had always felt safe here, as if someone was protecting him. And maybe, someone was.

It stayed quiet. Tanuma kept focused on the area around the sketchbook.

Minutes ticked by, but nothing moved. Minutes morphed into an hour, and still, nothing had moved. Tanuma stayed stubbornly at the shrine, and refused to take his eyes from the sketchbook.

"I know that you can hear me," he said calmly, although he, in fact, didn't know. "I'm not leaving until you answer me. Who are you?"

It stayed quiet for some time. Then, something changed.

The pencil moved.

Tanuma's mouth fell open as it began to write on its own, held by an invisible hand. He was too mystified by this new development to pay attention to what the hand was writing.

Finally, a couple of minutes after the pencil was dropped, Tanuma was able to close his mouth and look at the paper.

_Why are you here?_

Tanuma raised an eyebrow.

"Well, after a message suddenly appeared, you would want to know who had written it, right?"

Again, no movement for some time. Then, the pencil began moving. Tanuma observed it closely. He couldn't see any strings or any other signs of foul play.

_That's dangerous. What if I was going to hurt you?_

"Are you going to?"

A hesitation. Or at least, Tanuma thought it was a hesitation. It could very well be that the invisible being was just slow.

_I don't want to._

"What does it matter, then?"

 _Nothing, I suppose,_ the being wrote.

"What are you, exactly?"

A few minutes passed before the being answered.

_A youkai. One who lives here._

"A youkai?" he questioned aloud. He wasn't surprised. After all, what else could an invisible being living next to an abandoned shrine be?

 _Yes._ The youkai wrote, confirming his earlier answer.

Now, it was Tanuma's turn to hesitate. What do you say to a being of myth?

"Erm... how long have you been living here?"

_Long. Very long. Before the humans built this shrine._

"How long ago was that?"

_I don't know._

Well, time wouldn't matter to an immortal being, he supposed.

"Have you been watching me all this time?"

He knew the answer. The youkai had just said that they had been there since before this shrine was built. Of course it had been watching him.

Nevertheless, the youkai didn't answer immediately.

_Yes. I'm sorry._

"Don't mention it. You haven't hurt me or anything, so it's fine. It must have been lonely, living here all on your own."

That last sentence came out without his permission. He had never meant to say something that personal. It was rude.

The pause that followed was very long, but eventually, the youkai answered _It's nothing. I'm fine. You still haven't answered my question from yesterday: why were you crying?_

Tanuma fiddled with his thumbs. He didn't want to answer. He didn't want to bring that into his safe place.

"Is it okay if I don't tell you? I don't want to talk about it."

_Okay._

The sun was going down. He needed to go back, so that he wouldn't worry his father.

"I need to go now. I'll come back tomorrow, okay?"

_Okay. Thank you._

Tanuma found that a bit weird. Why would the youkai feel the need to thank him for something he had been doing for years?

He waved his new friend goodbye (could it even see him? Probably, if it had been able to see his sketchbook) and went on his way back home.

That night, as he lay in bed, he suddenly realized that he didn't even know the youkai's name.

.o0o.

"What is your name?" was the first thing he asked the next day.

He never got an answer. He waited for hours, but the pencil was never picked up, no message was written, and as Tanuma finally made his way back, he still had no name.

.o0o.

"I'm sorry if I offended you. Will you talk to me?"

Three days later, and not a single word from his youkai. Tanuma knew that he had fucked up, but he didn't know how. He just hoped that he could fix it.

To his relief, the pencil was picked up.

_You didn't offend me. It's just; names have power. I like you, but I don't trust you that much. I'm sorry._

Tanuma didn't know why that stung so much. Of course the youkai didn't trust him that much yet; they'd had one conversation. He wouldn't trust anyone that fast, himself.

Still, he had this sting in his chest that just wouldn't go away.

"Don't apologize; I understand. Do you want my name?"

 _No,_ was the immediate answer _you shouldn't trust me that much, either. I can hurt you._

Tanuma snorted.

"We've already talked about this, haven't we? You said you didn't want to hurt me. So you won't. Done. And besides, I don't think that human names hold that kind of power."

 _Still,_ the youkai insisted _I'm dangerous. You shouldn't give me much to work with._

Tanuma remained unimpressed.

"If you're really that dangerous, why aren't I dead yet?"

The youkai remained silent.

"See? You won't hurt me. My name's Tanuma. Nice to meet you."

 _DON'T DO THAT!_ The youkai wrote. It pressed the pencil so hard on the paper that it tore. _I'll hurt you!_

"I doubt it," Tanuma smiled, and stretched out his hand, until he touched something. It felt like some sort of cloth. He moved his hand upwards, until he touched something like skin, and even further up, something wooden, and further, until he found hair. The figure seemed to stop there.

Tanuma ruffled the hair. It felt weird, feeling something, but not being able to see it. The being seemed to lean into his hand. When he finally pulled his hand back, the creature picked up the pencil.

_Thank you._

.o0o.

Though the doctor had diagnosed him, he couldn't fix him. Tanuma and his dad went to three other doctors in the following weeks, hoping that one knew how to cure his illness. Sadly, no one seemed to know.

During those weeks, his father looked weaker and weaker, like all the stress was making him older. To escape his worrying eyes, Tanuma spent more and more time at the shrine. The youkai and him talked more and more, mainly about trivial matters. The youkai seemed interested in human culture.

_Why do you wear those clothes instead of yukata's?_

"Ah, I don't know. I suppose it just changed over the years."

_What is this thing that you were talking about, 'school'?_

"It's prison for kids. Just kidding. It's a place where human kids gather to learn things that will help them further in life. It can be really hard sometimes, though..."

_Do you live alone?_

"No, I live with my father."

_Do all human kids live with their father?_

"Most of them live with their father and mother, but my mother died when I was young, so it's just me and my father now."

_What's this?_

"It's a watch. Humans use it to watch the time."

_Why would you – ah, never mind. How does it work?_

"Here, let me teach you..."

And so, the days passed, woven together until weeks had flown by. And even though Tanuma's health kept declining faster than ever, he had never been so happy.

.o0o.

_Say, what do humans eat?_

The sun was shining. The sky was blue, without even a single cloud appearing before it. The trees were swaying softly in the summer breeze.

Tanuma had been looking up at the sky, dozing off, when the pen pricked him in his side. He looked at the sketchbook and saw the message written.

"Didn't you live at this shrine? Like... did you never see the offerings the people made here?"

The youkai hesitated before answering.

_They didn't offer any foods here. At least I don't think so. What do humans eat?_

"Erm... lots of things. Like, rice, sushi, red bean buns, onigiri... you know what, I'll bring you something tomorrow, okay?"

_Sounds good to me._

That night, he tried to slip some food into his room. His father caught him in the act.

"Tanuma, what are you doing?" he said, sternly.

Tanuma froze. How could he explain this?

"Ah – just taking something to my room in case I get hungry later, okay?"

It was a terrible excuse. Ever since the sickness had started, he hadn't had much of an appetite. Still, it did its job. His father's face lit up and he said that that was more than okay. Most likely, he was just ignoring the flimsiness of the excuse to believe that Tanuma was getting better.

Feeling a bit guilty, he set the bowl in his room and waited for tomorrow.

The next morning, he warmed the food and brought it to the youkai.

"Here, I promised to bring you something, right? This is tonkotsu ramen. Try it; it's delicious."

Tanuma held the bowl out in front of him, blindly, to where he hoped the youkai was. The bowl was taken out of his hands and seemed to float up in the air.

As the youkai ate the ramen, Tanuma watched on and remarked, in his head, that this was probably the weirdest thing he had ever seen in his entire life. A bowl of ramen that was eaten by a legendary being, while looking like a poor circus act. Yup, definitely in the top ten weirdest moments ever.

When the ramen was finally eaten, the bowl was put on the ground and the youkai wrote its message.

_You were right, it was delicious. Thank you._

"You're welcome. Do you want me to bring you some more?"

_If it's not too much effort, please._

It became their little tradition. Tanuma brought food as often as he could, and the youkai thanked him afterwards. It felt nice to be useful, for once.

.o0o.

The spirit was... pretty touchy. Not in a bad way, of course; it just seemed like, every time he went by the shrine, their hands touched in some way or another.

He wasn't sure what to think of it, so he just asked the being why they did it.

_I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I'll refrain from doing it again._

Tanuma frowned and waved the statement away.

"No, it's not like that. I was just curious. Are you going to answer my question?"

The pen wavered in the air for a second, before writing:

_I... like having contact, I guess. It's been a long time since I've felt someone's touch._

That single sentence spoke of so much loneliness. Tanuma's heart began to ache.

"Come here," he said and spread his arms.

 _What?_ the youkai wrote.

"I'm giving you a hug. Come."

A minute or so later, he felt something in his hands. He smiled and closed his arms around it.

The thing was human-sized, so it seemed. Something hard pressed into his shoulder. It felt like a piece of wood – probably the youkai's mask.

He felt the spirit sigh and they stayed in that position for a long time, until Tanuma had to go home.

"I'll be back tomorrow, okay?" he smiled at the youkai (or at least, he smiled at where he thought they were).

_Yes. Thank you so much._

"It's nothing."

As Tanuma walked back home, he couldn't help but wonder how lonesome the spirit must have been before they met him.

.o0o.

"I'm sorry, Kaname-san, I can't help you."

It was the sixth time Tanuma had heard that sentence, the sixth doctor that couldn't help him, and he'd expected it. His father had, too, and this time, he didn't even look sad. He just looked resigned.

As they walked back home, Tanuma suddenly doubled over. A furious pain bubbled up in his lungs, and he knew what was coming.

He started coughing. His father sat him down on the ground and let him lean against a building. Leaning against something sometimes made the pain lessen. It didn't, this time.

His entire body shook, and he had trouble breathing, both because of the coughs and the sheer amount of pure agony his ribcage was going through. After fifteen minutes, it finally looked like he was finished. He took his hand from his mouth and looked at it in shock.

Blood. Crimson liquid was splattered all over his hand, and slowly began to drip down on his shirt. His father saw it too, and slowly began to tear up.

Tanuma looked at him and smiled. "It's alright," he said with a pained smile. "I'm fine."

"That doesn't look fine."

From above him, a man with sunglasses and a green hat on was staring down on him. He grabbed his hand and forced it open. He stared at the blood for a while, before sighing and letting go.

Tanuma pulled his hand to his body as quickly as possible. He looked suspiciously at the man. Who the hell wore sunglasses in the middle of a cloudy day?

"I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself."

The man took his shades and hat off and smiled down at him. His eyes were a strange color of red, and his hear was blond-brown. The man's lips curled into a sparkling smile, but Tanuma didn't trust him. Something about him seemed... off.

"I'm Natori Shuuichi. I may be able to help with that sickness of yours."

His father shot up and demanded the man to tell him how. Tanuma also went into high alert. Someone was able to help him?

"Let's meet again in, ah, a week? I want to look around your home a bit. I would like to confirm my suspicions. If they turn out to be true, I'll gladly help you."

The smile sparkled even brighter, and felt even more fake.

But still, Tanuma and his father agreed to meet the man. He was his last hope, after all.

.o0o.

The following day, he brought some onigiri to the youkai. While they were eating, Tanuma decided that it was the right time to ask the spirit some questions that had been plaguing for some time.

"Are you the spirit that the shrine was built for?"

The youkai took a while to answer, because they needed to grab the pen and sketchbook, but soon enough, they wrote their answer.

_Yes._

"So you must be pretty powerful?"

_I guess._

The youkai had hesitated before answering this. Tanuma was getting pretty good at deciphering the pauses between messages. Short ones meant that nothing was wrong, long ones meant that the spirit had needed to think and ones like the one just now, meant that something was wrong.

Tanuma didn't ask, though. That would probably end in the spirit ignoring him for a few days.

Instead, he asked his next question.

"What are you the spirit of? Like, if the humans worshipped you, what did you protect?"

No answer. The onigiri was finished.

"Hello?"

The pen dropped on the sketchbook, and Tanuma felt a gust of wind flow past him. The youkai had gone, or at least, had no intention to talk to him anymore.

Sighing, he gathered his stuff. His spirit sure was touchy.

A singing pain rang through his body. Then, he collapsed.

.o0o.

His father's face was the first thing he saw when he woke up.

"Wha –" he said as he attempted to sit up. His father pushed him right back down.

"Don't move. I found you at the edge of the forest. You were gone for several hours. What happened?"

Tanuma gingerly touched his head. It was throbbing painfully, his chest was in all-consuming agony, his legs refused to move, and his arms felt heavy. He had never felt this terrible.

"I don't know," he answered his father, desperately trying to keep his vision focused. He failed.

His father's face blurred and, eventually, faded to black.

.o0o.

The next time he woke up, his sketchbook was near him. A message was written within it.

_Are you okay?_

Tanuma blinked twice to assure himself he wasn't hallucinating. With a broken voice, he asked: "Are you here?"

Something moved, and soon, a message appeared on the sketchbook.

_Yes. Are you okay?_

"Were you the one that brought me here?" Tanuma asked, careful not to strain himself while speaking. Though it was a bit better than the first time he woke up, he still felt an aching pain, like, everywhere.

_I brought you to the edge of the forest, but didn't know where you lived, so I waited for your father and followed you home. Again, are you okay?_

"I'm fine," Tanuma lied, but then immediately hissed in pain.

_You're not. I'm sorry. I'll go now. Bye, Tanuma-san._

"No, wait – "

But there was a gust of wind, and the youkai was gone.

.o0o.

The next week was spent in pure agony, fading in and out of consciousness, until Natori finally came.

Tanuma could vaguely identify the blurry head above him, but he couldn't make out the words he and his father exchanged. Something was put on his chest, and instantly, the pain felt lighter. His vision became more focused, and he could finally make out what the men were saying.

" – sure it's that?"

"Yes, I'm almost one hundred percent sure. I'll deal with it immediately. The charm should protect Tanuma for at least a short while. Long enough until I can perform the exorcism."

'Exorcism?' he wanted to say, but instead, unintelligible sounds came out of his mouth. His father rushed to his side immediately.

"Calm, Tanuma. Natori-san's going to take care of everything. Don't worry, you're going to be fine."

Before Tanuma could ask how or what or why or any of the other questions that were plaguing him, his exhausted body fell into a tired sleep.

.o0o.

"You awake?"

Natori sat next to his bed, staring serenely at his face. Tanuma blinked. The pain was gone. Not even the lingering sickness he had constantly felt for the past year was there. It was completely, one hundred percent gone.

He turned to Natori, who was still smiling his strange smile.

"What happened?" Tanuma asked. "What did you do?"

"I rid you of the illness," Natori calmly explained. Tanuma snorted.

"Yes, I know. But how?"

"Tanuma-san, have you been to the abandoned shrine a lot?"

Tanuma froze. He couldn't get himself to answer. The words seemed stuck in his mouth.

What did that have to do with anything?

"I'll take that as a yes. Then, have you met the youkai there?"

Suddenly, a piece of memory came back to him.

"...exorcise..."

Exorcise. Natori had mentioned that he had an exorcism to perform.

The youkai at the abandoned shrine.

Suddenly, it clicked.

Tanuma flung himself at Natori, pressing him against the ground.

"What did you do?" he half-growled, half-screamed at him.

"I exorcised it," Natori said, way too calmly, with that terrible smile of his.

Tanuma's brain stopped.

This was what he had been expecting, but nevertheless, he had trouble processing it.

The youkai was... gone?

His body moved on his own. A fist raised into the air, attempting to slam itself into Natori's smug smirk. Another pair of hands caught it. Natori's.

"It was giving you the illness. The spirit, it was a god of rot and decay. It was rotting your body, your lungs specifically, from the inside."

"Bullshit," Tanuma said through gritted teeth. "The youkai would never do that. They were kind. You killed them, you killed them for no reason."

He struggled to get out of Natori's tight grip. He wanted to punch him. He wanted to punch him until his face was bleeding to the ground, and that annoying smirk was vanished from the earth.

"It wasn't doing it on purpose. But spirits like him, they give off a bad miasma. You were breathing it in for so long, that you got affected by it. It's gone now, and took the miasma and all its effects with it."

"SHUT UP!" Tanuma yelled. His struggled became wilder as his vision blurred with tears. All the while, his thoughts flew through his head in high speed.

_What if I was going to hurt you?_

_I'm dangerous._

_I can hurt you._

All the times that they had told him, that they had said that they were dangerous and Tanuma hadn't listened and brushed it off... was it because of this? Did they knew that this would happen?

"It wanted me to kill it, once it knew what it had done and that it could be solved if it disappeared."

"Liar!" Tanuma yelled. The tears were now streaming across his face.

_Was it true?_

"Liar! Liar liar liar liar liar liar LIAR!"

Tanuma sunk down on the ground and sobbed. It echoed throughout the room. Tanuma could see his ugly tears reflected in the window.

Natori clumsily lay his hand on his back, as if he wanted to comfort him, but wasn't sure how. Tanuma let him. He didn't have the energy to push him away.

_Why?_

.o0o.

He was back at the shrine. He didn't know why he had come back here. Or rather, he did, but he didn't want to acknowledge it to himself.

It had been a month since he had been released from his sickness and his friend. He knew that Natori had spoken the truth. He knew that the youkai was gone. But still, he held this crazy shred of hope close to his heart, that shred that claimed that there was still a chance. A chance that this was all, perhaps, a giant misunderstanding. A shred that spoke: 'He's still here.'

He looked over the abandoned building. It still looked the same. The half-fallen walls, the collapsed roof, the unsightly specks of rot all across the wood; they were all still there.

But the sense of security was gone. The presence that he had felt for as long as he had lived, that warm blanket – it had disappeared, as if it had never been there in the first place.

Tanuma carried on, to what was left of the front door, where he had first met his youkai.

There, carved in the wood, was a single word:

_Takashi._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some IMPORTANT notes:
> 
> \- Somehow, I've managed to write two (semi)multi-chaps right after each other. This has a second part which will be uploaded within a week, after I edit it and write the last paragraphs. It will focus on Natsume's past in this AU and will answer any questions that are left unanswered (or at least, I think it does).
> 
> \- In case you didn't know (though I doubt that anyone in this fandom doesn't know it): Takashi is Natsume's first name. I used that instead of his last name because of reasons that will appear in the next chapter.
> 
> \- I'm not too sure about Tanuma and Natsume's characterization, but I think it's fine.
> 
> \- I have no medical knowledge. I don't know if rot in the lungs and rest of the body would feel like this. I'm basically bullshitting about that. Sorry if it bothers you.
> 
> \- If you're wondering why Tanuma can see Natsume's writing: he can see shadows of youkai. For the purpose of this AU, this includes Natsume's messages. That's the only excuse I can give you.
> 
> \- Tanuma still lives in his temple. I think that that temple is located near the forest, maybe even in. If it isn't, sorry.
> 
> \- Author has little to no knowledge of youkai, and is going off what she learned from this series.
> 
> \- As you may have noticed, author has neglected to do any sort of research because autor is lazy. Yup.
> 
> \- Author is terrible at writing happy things. Parts of this story were supposed to be happy. I'm sorry if I fucked this up.
> 
> \- If you see any grammar and/or spelling faults, please tell me.
> 
> Now, personal notes that may or may not be interesting (AKA I like rambling at the end of my fics):
> 
> \- IT'S FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE TO WRITE ANYTHING FOR THIS FANDOM. Like, seriously. I've attempted to write three stories already, but they all failed because I couldn't get the atmosphere right. I still don't think I've nailed it, but it's decent enough. Kudos to everyone who can write the atmosphere of this show/manga right. Kudos.
> 
> \- Speaking of impossibilities, characterization of basically every character in this universe is hard. Really, really hard. Which is why I'm unsure about them in this fic.
> 
> \- I love the idea of Natsume being a (half-)youkai. I honestly hope that Natsume's father in canon turns out to be non-human, but the chance of that happening is almost zero and I know it. Still, the possibility fascinates me and out of that fascination, this AU was born.
> 
> \- I originally wanted Tanuma to see Natsume at least once, but the only way to do that was possibly involving Taki in the mix. But because characterization is hard and I couldn't get her right I left that out.
> 
> \- I also wanted him to be present during the exorcism, but that was just impossible to do without Deus Ex Machina-ing my way through it, so I also left that out.  
> \- This story is meant to be non-romantic. But, re-reading it, it does look kinda shippy at points. So take it as you will.
> 
> \- I'm well aware that the title sucks. But I can't think of a better one, so there.
> 
> \- This show is amazing. This manga is amazing. Just wanted to put that out there.
> 
> That's all, I think. Thanks for reading this fic and way-too-long author's note, and I hope that you enjoyed it ^-^.


	2. The Youkai of the Abandoned Shrine

He loved humans, but he hated them. His hatred felt like a fire in his heart, burning everything he used to love. But, at the very least, the flame provided him warmth.

Before the humans had come and built him this shrine, he had been alone. If he had ever had any parents, he couldn't remember them. The other youkai didn't want him around. Not that he blamed them; with his aura, he was nothing but a sickness to them. So he had settled at this spot a long, long time ago, and hadn't moved. With him there, nothing could even so much as live in the clearing; even grass wilted once it stayed there for too long.

Then, a human had taken notice of this place. It had been a time of death for them; a sickness had been plaguing their village, and dozens had already died. Their crops had wilted, and those who didn't fall ill were slowly dying of starvation. The humans were despairing, and despair was what drove them to his place.

The human saw the clearing in the woods and thought the only thing a human from that time period could think: this was the work of a god.

At least, that's what he assumed had happened, because not even a month later, he had his own shrine and humans who pleaded him to stop his massacre.

He wasn't the one that was causing the illness, nor had he caused their crops to die. But he knew the youkai that had done it. He had seen them, sometimes. They liked to hang around the clearing, boasting about the humans that they had killed, and sometimes, the youkai that they had eaten.

He also knew that they were terribly, terribly powerful.

He knew that he wouldn't be a match for them, so as much as it pained him to see the humans cry and die like flies, he didn't do anything.

After all, the humans were terrible in their own ways. The other youkai that dared to come within hearing distance of him sometimes spoke of exorcists. Exorcists, the terrible men who sealed away innocent and not-so-innocent youkai alike, without making any distinction between peaceful and dangerous.

But the humans weren't just cruel to youkai. That could be forgiven: youkai were often cruel to humans, too. But the humans were also cruel, extremely cruel, to their own kind.

How many times had he heard of men being stoned to death for a crime they did not commit? How many times had he heard of women hanging themselves in the forest because they refused to be married off to someone they did not love? How many times had he seen a baby, an innocent creature, left alone to rot in this forest?

No, man was cruel. Even if all these crying people were innocent, he wasn't willing to risk his life to help them. Let them fight their own fights.

(This is what he told himself, even as he searched for the beasts that were causing the humans so much pain. And this was what he kept telling himself, once he had defeated them and he collapsed in his shrine. The one that the humans built for him.)

.o0o.

There were times when the thought he had made the wrong choice, getting rid of those spirits for them. Because they kept coming back after that, with requests and offerings.

He regretted it when the requests were unreasonable. Which is to say, most of the time. Humans were terrible, terrible creatures, and he was reminded of that when he heard their pleas to him. Pleas to fail their neighbors' crops, pleas to bring sickness to their wife, pleas to rot a husbands lungs. To hear them beg him to carry out those cruel punishments for something often so petty (an argument, an insult, a single prank) reminded him of how terrible the human race was, and how stupid he was for associating with them.

(He never granted these requests. No matter how bad the human was by nature, nobody deserved to be punished so severely for something so petty.)

He regretted it when the humans came to beg him to stop his raging. He never raged. He never harmed the humans, at least, not intentionally. But when a mother came and begged him to stop making her child ill, when a father came to beg him to keep his hands of his crops, or when the village came to beg him to stop the sickness that he had supposedly been spreading, he felt ill. It was all he could do not to scream and fall to the ground. He didn't want to hurt people, and he didn't think he was the cause of any of their pains. He didn't want them to blame him. He didn't want them to fear him. He wanted them to be happy.

(When they came with those requests, he searched the forest high and low for the youkai that could be the culprit. Sometimes, it turned out that it was some spirit with a distaste for humans having fun. Other times, there was no youkai at fault, and there was nothing he could do but wait for it to pass, whatever it was, with pain in his heart.)

But what he hated the most were the offerings. The offerings. He had heard from other youkai that humans gave them food in their shrine. He heard them say that it was delicious. He wanted to try that food, to taste it on his tongue, but what the humans gave him was no food.

The humans gave him other humans.

Sometimes, with individual requests, they offered him their own blood. They would slice their hands with a ceremonial knife and let their blood drip on his altar. He always looked away in disgust when that happened.

Sometimes, when it was a common interest, they would offer him a maiden, often a child. Then, he would try to stop them, hiding the knife, grabbing their hands and struggling to keep them away from the child. But of course, the humans misunderstood him and thought that this was his test, a test to see how loyal they were. And they were loyal, apparently, because they would always overpower him and manage to kill the child.

(These where the times when he became frantic – he would search day and night for a youkai culprit, would try day and night to end the crisis. Because if he waited too long, they would offer another child, and he wanted to prevent that, at all costs.)

.o0o.

There were times he regretted ever making contact with humans. But most of the time, he was happy he had done so.

Before the humans had come and built this shrine, he had been alone. And even though the humans were afraid of him, despised him, and were disgusted by him, hidden hatred was still better than the empty silence that had been all around him, before.

.o0o.

Some youkai said that human lives were short and passed in the blink of an eye. They said that because they lived, they lived longer than humans, they lived longer than animals, and there was a good chance that they would live longer than the forest. But they weren't like him.

They were mortal. He was not.

To someone like him, someone who had eternity bound to him, time meant nothing. A human's life was over in the blink of an eye, but, at the same time, it lasted an infinity. So when the humans who had built the shrine died and were replaced with their children, and those children grew up and died and were replaced with their children and those children died and were replaced, it all seemed like both the blink of an eye and like eternity.

And when they began to forget him, it seemed to take just as long.

As his shrine started to rot and break down (just like everything he touched), time didn't even seem to have passed.

But, when it was finally clear that the world had completely abandoned his place, he decided that it had been a long time.

.o0o.

He was alone once again, with the eternal silence around him, one that would probably stay with him for as long as he had lived.

And as much as he regretted it, he missed the humans.

.o0o.

She came by on a cold winter day. It had snowed. The dead grass was covered by untouched white. He was sitting at the doorway of his shrine, watching his white breath flow up to the sky, as he heard her.

"Oi, you."

He ignored it. There was never anyone here.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

A stone hit the side of his head. He looked up.

Before him there stood a girl with long, pale brown hair, a white skin and angry eyes.

The girl smirked as she saw him. Her chin was up, her back was straight, her arms were crossed, her legs spread wide, her bag on the floor. She was confidence, in and of itself.

"I challenge you to a duel. If you win, you can do whatever you want, like eat me. If I win, you write your name for me."

Natsume Reiko. He had heard the youkai talk about her. They whispered about the violent man-child that could see them, challenged them, and defeated even the strongest among them. She was strong. Very strong.

Perhaps she was stronger than him. He didn't know, and he had no desire to find out.

"Not interested," he said in answer to her offer. He didn't take his eyes off of her, though. It had been ages since the silence around him had been broken, and this was a welcome change.

Natsume Reiko looked at him incredulously, as if he had said something unforgivable and unexplainable.

"What?! You get to eat me! Why would you say no?"

"I don't want to eat you. And I know you. I've heard talks of you. You're Natsume Reiko, and you've never lost. I'm not willing to bet my name for that."

His name was powerful, like all names. And he was dangerous. He didn't, couldn't give anybody that amount of unlimited control over him. It could end catastrophic.

Reiko huffed. It looked like she was either disappointed or pissed off. He wasn't sure which of the two it was.

"I want you to fight with me!"

"Make me."

He shouldn't have said that.

Natsume Reiko, the powerful keeper of the Book of Friends, which contained the names and, therefore, lives of countless youkai, spent the rest of the day throwing stones at him. He ignored her the best as he could.

_But_ , he thought, as a stone hit him in the eye, _it wasn't easy_.

.o0o.

Natsume Reiko spent the next three days trying to annoy him as much as she could. Throwing stones, insulting him, hitting him with a branch, anything that she could think of. After three days, she definitely looked pissed off.

And maybe a bit intrigued.

It was during the fourth day that she asked her question.

"Why don't you just fight me? Most youkai jump at the change. Some even seek me out."

He shook his shoulders.

"I don't like violence. And I don't want to risk you getting my name."

"Why? Are you powerful?"

He stared at her with disbelieving eyes.

"You're doing all this effort and you don't even know that? I assumed you just wanted to fight me to prove how strong you are."

Natsume Reiko looked affronted.

"Don't think that you're so special. You're just a youkai I found while being lost. But you're powerful, aren't you?"

"Dangerous."

"Same thing," she waved her hand. "You gonna fight me?"

"No."

And their routine began again.

.o0o.

Soon, their routine changed.

They started to talk.

Natsume Reiko was lonely. He was lonely. They were the same in that, and they understood each other. The humans Reiko lived with weren't terrible, she told him, but they ignored her most of the time. Reiko made it out to be a mere annoyance, but he knew that it hurt her. It would hurt him.

And of course, the silence was still around him. Only now, he had Reiko to break it for him.

It was happy, all things considered. This human was good. He was happy.

Very, very happy.

.o0o.

"Why are you even making the Book of Friends?"

He asked one day.

"I'm bored," she lied.

.o0o.

"What are you, exactly?"

She asked one day.

"Nothing," he lied.

.o0o.

Their relationship was one built up of lies. They gave each other truths, occasionally, but they mostly lied, and they both knew it.

And they were both searching for the truth.

.o0o.

"You're making the Book of Friends because you're tired of being weak, aren't you?"

"Sure," she answered, and he knew that she was lying.

.o0o.

"Are you a god?" she asked.

"No," he lied, and she knew how close she was to the answer.

.o0o.

"Are you making the Book of Friends because you don't want to be alone?" he asked.

"Of course not!" she lied, and he knew that he was right.

.o0o.

"I heard a legend in the village of a God of Rot living on the mountain. That's you, isn't it?"

He didn't answer, and she smiled her dangerous triumphant smile.

.o0o.

"Where did you get that bruise?"

"Some neighborhood kids threw it at me."

And he was scared, because they told lies, not truths.

.o0o.

The first time he spoke the absolute truth to her was when he made his mistake.

"Can you tell me your name?" she asked him politely.

It was summer. The blue sky above him and the sunrays that touched Reiko's face told him that. The birds didn't chirp here, though.

He trusted Reiko. She told lies, she may seem a little evil sometimes, but at heart Reiko was a sad, lonely girl with a good, but tattered heart. And he trusted her to keep her heart together.

He whispered it in her ear to make sure that no-one else heard it.

She looked surprised.

"That's it?" she said incredulously. "With all the trouble you made of it, I expected it to be something much more epic."

He grumbled something incomprehensible, laid back, took his mask of and let the sunlight touch his face.

.o0o.

Reiko's visits grew shorter and shorter, until one day, she stopped coming.

He probably should have let it be, but no. He went searching for her.

He found her in a house, sleeping, clearly in pain.

He froze.

Was she... sick?

He came a little closer and poked her cheek. She groaned and her eyes flew open.

As soon as he saw that she was awake he asked, worriedly: "Are you hurt?"

Reiko only looked at him, sighed, and coughed violently. Black slime trickled from her hand onto her chin.

Definitely sick.

The coughing didn't stop, but only seemed to increase. He felt like he had to do something, but he didn't know what. Finally, he just reached out to pat her back.

As soon as his hand connected with her skin, patches of rot began to appear. The area around his hand turned black so fast that, even though his hand had only rested on her for a second, at least ten centimeters had turned into a festering mess.

Shocked, he stumbled backwards. He looked at the wound, but couldn't focus. What was going on?

Reiko's coughing slowly decreased, until finally, it stopped. With her sleeve she wiped away the lingering slime on her chin.

Once she had cast her breath, she turned to him. She said his name.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked her.

"I'm dying," she answered, way too calmly for anyone in her situation.

Before he had time to fully recover from this announcement, she continued.

"I'm dying, and it hurts. A lot," her voice stayed so agonizing, painfully calm. "I don't want to hurt anymore."

She looked at him expectantly, as if he should understand what she meant by this. His brain was still frozen, however. His thought process lay still. He wasn't breathing.

"I want you to kill me."

His brain started working again. He shook his head violently.

"No! No, I'm not going to do that! There must be a – "

"I order you to kill me, _Takashi_."

His vision blurred and his body started moving all on his own. Suddenly, he stood next to her bed and was looking down on her smiling face.

The flesh of her neck was soft beneath his fingers. The rot was spreading beneath her clothes as he cut of her air. Within minutes, the rotten body of his friend lay in his hands.

Natsume Reiko died with a smile on her face, held by a crying spirit.

.o0o.

He returned to his shrine and stayed there.

Slowly, as time passed, the walls began to rot, the roof began to decay, the grass began to die, the trees were killed by his miasma, and he couldn't get himself to care.

The ever present silence was, of course still there. He wasn't lonely (he told himself). He didn't want company (he told himself). Getting attached to something would only cause him pain, so he didn't yearn for it (he told himself).

In the loneliness of his silence, he spent a lot of time thinking. He thought about everything, mostly irrelevant things, like the seasons or the clouds. But every once in a while, he found his thoughts drifting towards Reiko.

He had come to the conclusion that everything that had happened was his own fault. Really, it was obvious. The sickness was caused by rotting, and because of the sickness, Reiko had wanted to die, so she had ordered him to kill her.

What he mostly thought about, though, was why she had become sick in the first place. He hadn't cursed her, he knew that. So it must have been his miasma. Really, he had been stupid to think that it could have been anything else.

His conclusion was that he could never make another friend, especially not a human one.

So he retreated from the human world, pretended not to be there when humans accidently crossed his path, didn't help them, didn't punish them, just ignored them.

He hoped that they would get the hint. He didn't want them here. He wanted them to leave him alone.

Apparently, a small boy had missed that memo.

.o0o.

He came here for the first time during a summer afternoon. He didn't seem to know what he was doing; maybe he was lost or something. Takashi didn't know, and neither did he care. He wanted the boy gone.

Yet, he did nothing when the boy returned the next day. And the next. And the next.

The boy came regularly, and while Takashi was pretty sure that he didn't know that the youkai existed, it still made him uncomfortable.

He wouldn't get attached to the boy.

(He told himself.)

.o0o.

The first contact he made was when the boy was older. Or at least, Takashi thought he was. He was longer, and a lot of seasons had past, so the boy must have grown older, right?

Anyway, the first contact he made, was on an evening, when the boy was crying.

Takashi didn't understand. He had never seen the boy cry before. He had seen him kick things, scream, curse, but he had never seen any tears upon his face.

Why was he crying?

Against his better judgement, he made contact.

.o0o.

The boy had paled and ran away as soon as he had read the message, and Takashi couldn't decide whether he was happy about this or not.

He should be happy that he had driven the boy away. He knew that. He was dangerous, and he should never, ever, make contact with humans.

But the hollow feeling always disappeared slightly when the boy came, and the idea of facing another eternity of loneliness seemed terrifying.

He leant back against the rotting wood of his shrine and let the moonlight caress his face.

Even though he shouldn't, he hoped that the boy would return.

.o0o.

Night turned to day, day turned to night, night turned to day, day turned to night, night turned to day, and then the boy came back.

"Whoever you are!" the boy yelled. "Come out! I know that you are here!"

The boy looked around the shrine, completely missing his figure. This indicated that the boy didn't know that he was here. Yet, he persisted.

Takashi didn't touch the sketchbook before him, even though his hands were aching to do so. He wanted to contact the boy. He wanted to speak to him, he wanted his company. But he was too dangerous, and though he was happy that the boy was back, he would keep his distance from now on.

He had assumed that the boy would go away if he didn't answer. He was wrong.

"I know that you can hear me. I'm not leaving until you answer me. Who are you?"

The boy's calm voice rang out over the meadow of dead grass, and Takashi stiffened. Would the boy really refuse to leave?

It seemed so. Takashi studied the boy's eyes. He recognized the stubborn, determined look in there all too well – he had seen it before, with a grinning, dangerous girl.

He stared at the sketchbook in front of him.

Did he dare?

With trembling hands, he picked up the pencil, and began to write.

.o0o.

"What is your name?"

This was the first thing the human said the next day. His breath hitched in his throat.

No.

No.

NO!

He fled away from his shrine for the first time in forever, sat down near a tree, and tried to ignore the panic rising in his throat.

He couldn't.

He couldn't give him that.

Never, ever, would he give another human his name.

.o0o.

It was three days before he dared to return to his shrine, hoping that the boy would have gone by now.

He wasn't.

"I'm sorry if I offended you. Will you talk to me?"

_No,_ he should have answered.

But by now he was figuring out that he was an idiot, so of course he picked up the pencil and wrote back.

He reassured the boy that it was nothing, that he hadn't offended him, and everything was good. Until the boy went completely crazy.

"Do you want my name?"

Takashi tried to stop him, tried to talk him out of it, but in the end, it was all futile.

Tanuma. He liked the name, but he was terrified of it. He knew the power of names, and he didn't want to hurt him, but now he had the boy's name. He didn't want to hurt him. He didn't. He didn't.

Suddenly, the human touched him. A tingling sensation went through his skin, at the place where the pressure of the hand fell. The hand went up and up, even touching his mask, until it stopped in his hair and ruffled it.

Unconsciously, he leaned in to the touch. It had been ages, literally, since someone had last done something like this to him. He hadn't realized how much he needed this until now.

Even though words could not describe his feelings accurately, he felt like he had to say something to Tanuma.

_Thank you._

.o0o.

Tanuma kept coming to him, day after day, and they kept talking about everything and nothing. Mostly about human culture, though.

Humans fascinated him, always had. He wanted to know what gave them their dual nature, and what made them happy or sad. He asked Tanuma about everything he could think of, and Tanuma answered him. He gained a vast amount of knowledge, and even though the boy couldn't answer his main questions, it was still wonderful.

Maybe he just liked breaking the silence, for once.

.o0o.

Though most of the things he learned from Tanuma about humans were fairly logical, there was one thing that genuinely fascinated him.

A watch. According to Tanuma, it was used to keep track of the time. He kept the one he found, and Tanuma taught him how to read it. It was strange, being able to stare at the seconds, minutes, and hours passing by, and finally having an image to go with the concept of time.

He stared at the hands moving within the clock and waited for Tanuma to come back.

.o0o.

Aside from the clock, Tanuma introduced him to another brilliant addition of human culture: the food.

Everything he brought was brilliant, without fail. He had never felt hungry before, but now, he felt his stomach groaning in anticipation every night.

It was just one of the many things he learned from the human.

.o0o.

The most brilliant thing Tanuma gave him, though, was a hug.

He had been touching the human a lot, discreetly, or so he had hoped. He didn't want to direct attention to what he was doing. It was wrong to touch Tanuma. He had seen what his touches did to humans, he had seen them rot beneath his fingers, and yet, he still continued doing so. It was wrong, just like this entire situation, but nevertheless, he couldn't help it.

Then, Tanuma caught on and called him out on it. Instead of being angry at him, he offered to touch him even more. He spread out his arms and called him in for a hug.

A million little stars exploded before his eyes as he sunk into the embrace. Tanuma was warm, very, very warm. His warmth enveloped Takashi completely, as he melt within it. He didn't think, but simply snuggled his face into Tanuma's shoulders as he listened to the ticking of his watch, a reminder that time was passing.

It was heaven.

Pure, complete and utter heaven.

.o0o.

One day, Tanuma asked questions.

"Are you the spirit this shrine was built for?"

"So you must be pretty powerful?"

"What are you the spirit of?"

And while he knew, that he should answer the questions, he just couldn't.

Tanuma had a right to know these things, to know the monster that he had been talking to all this time, but he didn't want to tell him. He knew that, once he told him, Tanuma would leave, disgusted by him and worried for his own health. And rightfully so. He was dangerous, he knew that, and Tanuma should stay away from him.

But Takashi, as he had figured out a long time ago, was selfish. He didn't want him to leave. He didn't want him back away from him with terror on his face and let the silence stream back in. He didn't want that. He didn't want that.

So, instead of doing the right thing, he ran away. As he always did.

Hours later he came back, and found Tanuma collapsed upon his porch.

That's when he knew that he had fucked up. Badly.

(Even though he had known that a long time before. He just hadn't acknowledged it yet.)

.o0o.

He dragged Tanuma to the edge of the forest and waited until his father found him. He followed them home and stayed in the room while Tanuma's father took care of him. He watched, and simply watched, and as he watched, he noticed.  
Tanuma kept coughing, and as he coughed, black slime trickled from his mouth.

Just like it had done with Reiko.

But still, he didn't leave, even when he obviously should have. Instead, he waited until Tanuma woke up to speak to him.

"I'm fine," Tanuma lied through his pain, and as he spoke, the spots of rot grew. They grew every time Takashi came closer to him.

He was doing this. Tanuma was sick because of him.

_I'm sorry._

.o0o.

He ran to his shrine and collapsed on the porch. Water was gathering at the bottom of his mask, and he hastily took it off in order to let his tears flow freely.

He leaned back against the door. Even if he closed his eyes, Tanuma's sick face kept appearing before his eyes, as vividly as if he was still looking at it. No matter how hard he tried, the image wouldn't go away.

He curled up into a ball and tried to block out the voice of his guilt.

_What have I done?_

.o0o.

He woke up to the sound of his watch. With every tick, Tanuma was getting closer and closer to the end of his life.

He smashed the clock.

.o0o.

He didn't move for the a period of time. It seemed long, but without his watch, he didn't know how long it had been. He didn't care either. He didn't want to move.

The exorcist came to him in the middle of the day. As soon as he heard someone approaching, he was immediately on high alert.

"GO AWAY!" he roared, despite the fact that whoever was there probably couldn't hear him. He didn't care. They should stay away; he was dangerous, he had made his human sick again and he didn't want to make the same mistake a third time.

The man who approached him didn't stop, but he did look somewhat startled. Which was strange, because after all, he couldn't hear him, right?

The man looked around the shrine. Takashi looked at him, suspicious. Why was he here?

Finally, the man turned to Takashi. Or rather, he turned to the porch, accidently right at the point where Takashi was lying.

"You know, for such a powerful youkai, you sure are pretty pathetic looking."

The man spoke with a mild tone of disdain in his voice. Not outright disgust, not polite, but somewhere in the middle.

Takashi gaped at him. Could he... see him?

"Can you see me?"

"Yes."

Flashes of _that_ face came before his eyes, and he shuddered. Nothing good came of seeing him.

"Go away."

"No. I'll exorcise you."

And with those words, paper dolls flew from his hands and wrapped themselves around him. He tore them apart effortlessly.

The man's expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed slightly surprised.

"You're an exorcist," Takashi stated, looking at those paper dolls. "Go. I'm stronger than you."

The exorcists eyes narrowed.

"I'm not letting that boy die."

Takashi shot up.

"What about him?" he snarled.

The exorcist didn't answer. Instead, his voice sounded over the clearing.

"Attack."

Three pair of arms suddenly pressed him to the ground. Shiki. Takashi struggled to break free. It would have been easy to just use his powers, but that would mean hurting them. And he didn't want to hurt them.

Meanwhile the exorcist seemed to be creating a circle. Takashi's struggles increased. He didn't want to die, not yet.

He almost laughed at himself. He didn't want to die? Hadn't that been his deepest wish for as long as he had lived? For time to have a meaning, and for him to be mortal?

But now that his time had come, he didn't want to accept it.

How ironic it was. But, well, at least he could meet up with Tanuma in the afterlife.

"What did you say?" the horn-masked shiki asked him. He had said that last part out loud.

The exorcist had also heard him, apparently. He stopped drawing the circle and looked at him.

"Why do you care for him? You cursed him, right?"

Takashi growled and his eyes glowed. How dare he. How dare he say that.

One of the shiki screamed and pulled back, grabbing her arm. He had let himself go too much.

He breathed in deeply and tried to calm himself before answering.

"I didn't. I never meant to hurt him."

But he had hurt him, hadn't he? Didn't he deserve to die for that?

The exorcist started at him, apparently lost within his thoughts. Takashi looked at the circle. It was way too simple, way too easy; he could escape from it, if he would try.

He didn't know whether to be happy about that or not.

The horn-masked shiki followed his gaze and frowned.

"Master, he is too powerful. I don't think that that circle will cut it."

The exorcist was pulled from his thoughts, looked at the circle and sighed.

"I know, Hiiragi. But this is the strongest one I know. Maybe if I make another –"

He stopped abruptly, as if he had gotten an idea. He looked over at Takashi.

"Do you care about that boy?" he asked him.

Takashi nodded furiously. "Of course," he said, with passion that he didn't even know he had lacing his voice.

The exorcists sighed and kneeled before him.

"I think," he started slowly. "that if you're gone, the sickness would go away."

This came as a slap to the face. His heart pounded in his chest. There was a way to make Tanuma healthy again?

"Really?" he asked, without being able to keep the hope out of his voice.

The exorcist nodded. "The sickness is caused by your miasma. If you're gone, so should your aura be. It will, at the very least, stop the sickness from progressing."

Takashi held his breath. He had a chance. A chance to help Tanuma.

"If you stay in the circle, it should destroy your very essence. That way, you can save the boy. Will you do that?"

"Yes," Takashi answered without hesitating.

The exorcist's eyes pierced through him, trying to see his soul. Apparently, it passed the test, because he nodded to his shiki. They let him go, obediently.

"I'm almost done. Wait for me."

The man wanted to go back to drawing the circle, and at first, Takashi was going to let him. But then, something shot through him.

"Wait," he said to the exorcist, who turned around.

"Do you have a knife?"

The shiki immediately went to grab their weapons. Takashi held out his hands in the universal gesture of 'I mean no harm'.

"I just want to carve something. In the wood. It's important to me."

The exorcist looked calculatingly at him, before nodding and handing him a pocket knife he dived up from his pocket.

"Do what you have to do."

Takashi nodded, and went to work.

.o0o.

When he was finally done, he nodded to the exorcist. The exorcist nodded back.

He stepped into the circle, and the chant began. His world began to twist and twirl, and suddenly, he couldn't feel his hand anymore. When he brought it up before his eyes, he saw that his arm was beginning to unravel into dust.

He closed his eyes. This was how it would end.

Takashi smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AN isn't really important, I just like rambling.
> 
> \- Writing Natsume as 'Takashi' was way too hard. Seriously. But, well, I could hardly name him 'Natsume' without changing Reiko's surname. It'd just be weird.
> 
> \- I completely butchered Reiko's character, but, in my defense, she's a hard character to get a hold of and we still know fairly little about her, so yeah. Especially sorry for how rushed her death is; I rewrote it six times and this was the best I could do. Sorry.
> 
> \- About Natori: I don't think I made him OOC, though he may seem so. What I love about his character is the influence that Natsume in canon had on him. As you may remember, when he first appeared, he was a pretty cold guy, at least when it came to youkai, though he did seem willing to help humans. He wasn't heartless, just cold. I went by that version of him while writing, since Natsume never met him in his AU.
> 
> \- Interesting to note: I actually had a completely different backstory for Natsume written, one that was way darker and also involved Matoba's ancestor. But I felt like it didn't fit the overal tone and cut it out of the story. I usually don't cut out something that large without starting over completely, so I felt like it was worth telling.
> 
> \- Thanks to the one who commented on the previous chapter! I dislike replying to comments because it brings the comment counter up and I feel like I'm adding 'false' comments (if that makes sense), but I just really wanted to say thanks ^-^.
> 
> Yet another long AN. Thanks for sticking with me and I hope that this chapter didn't disappoint.


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